


Merewif

by Antiquity



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Pirates of the Caribbean References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiquity/pseuds/Antiquity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason sailors fear Whitecap Bay, and it's not the changeable tide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merewif

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Willow Beats' song 'Merewif', hence the title, and that scene in Pirates of the Caribbean 4: On Stranger Tides. You know, that one. Make of it what you will!

Navigating the channels between the rocks of Dead Man’s Point on a night where there was no moon and a covering of cloud was perilous; venturing anywhere near the east point of Whitecap Bay with any form of light was suicide. Better death by smashing against rocks hidden by shadows than the end awaiting you if the man-eating mermaids gliding languidly through the deeps caught even the faintest glimmer of light.

The quiet kiss of oars meeting the water was indistinguishable from the ebb and flow of the sea through narrow channels and the occasional creak of wood was disguised by the shifting of seaweed and detritus caught amongst the rocks. Speed had been sacrificed for silence on this voyage and so far the little rowboat currently being guided through Dead Man’s Point had remained undetected. 

The woman at the stern carefully pointed the bow between two jagged rocks and the crew of four held their breath as the hull scraped over a submerged outcrop. She was the only one entrusted with navigation; her three male companions could all too easily be enticed away from a safe path by the wiles of the sea women. Even now, the wind caressing their hair and faces held just a hint of the sirens’ bewitching songs, sublime as the ocean and twice as dangerous. 

Ignoring the faint strains of music, the woman pulled the tiller to port, guiding them ever closer to their ship. It was crucial that the little rowboat clear Dead Man’s Point without mishap, as the Flame waited at anchor on the other side of the headland for secret orders dispatched by the Chairman of the East India Trading Company. Cutting through Whitecap Bay was the fastest way to return to the mooring point, but since few sailors ever made it back alive the route was long-abandoned. The cunning captain, however, plying his oar to the woman’s left, had faith in his crew and had decided to chance the crossing. Determined to catch the predawn wind, he bent his head against the ghostly melodies drifting over the sea’s surface and pulled his oar once more. 

“One hundred yards to go,” breathed the first mate, chewing his cigar into pulp in his anxiety, “then one hundred yards of open sea before the Flame can toss out mooring lines.” 

“Steady,” whispered the captain, dipping his oar once more into the inky sea. 

With the sound of the wind and the calm midnight sea in their ears, the crew of the rowboat finally rounded the last rock at the foot of the cliffs and left Dead Man’s Point behind them. 

Out of the lee of the headland the waves were bigger, but the rowboat continued to slip silently across the sea. With only fifty yards to go before the rowboat could be made fast to the Flame, the blackness of the night was pierced by the sudden uncovering of an overeager ship boy’s lantern, and the light’s touch doomed the little wooden rowboat. 

“Put it out!” the captain yelled, his voice splitting the silence of the night, but it was too late: the sea around the rowboat had begun to broil with the eager approach of the mermaids. 

“Row!” bellowed the portly bosun, and the sailors bent at the oars like men possessed, but fins lashed at the hull and tails struck the aged wood, and the little boat quivered under the onslaught. Still, the men clung to their oars as the distance narrowed once more, crewmen swarming at the railings and bellowing encouragement to their captain. 

Displeased at the attempts to escape and at the noise created by the crew, the mermaids at last began to surface. Chaos reigned as they fought one another to get closer to the boat, frenzied splashes and ear-splitting screeches turning the once-quiet night into a scene reminiscent of the rowdiest tavern, but in the confusion the four crew in the rowboat had managed to draw close enough to the ship that ropes could be tossed down to them. 

“Go!” Pushing his men towards the ropes and the sturdy side of the sailing ship, the dark-eyed captain pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, struck a spark in his tinderbox and hurled the flaming rag off the starboard bow. The arc of fire distracted the seething mass of mermaids enough that his crew could swing out of the rowboat and begin scaling the side of the ship, but it was too late for the captain. 

The surface of the sea split apart just as he was reaching for his rope and a creature wreathed in gold surged upwards, high enough that it could entwine its arms about his neck, and then the captain tumbled into the ocean’s abyss locked in a merman’s embrace. The surface closed once more over their heads as the merman pulled his prize away from the chaos. 

“You’re mine now,” whispered the merman, golden coils ensnaring the captain and stilling his struggles, “mine forever more.”

Capturing the captain’s lips, the merman claimed his mate as the pair descended into the dark and silent depths of the endless ocean.


End file.
